by Lori Foster
His broken voice helped her to get it together. If she fell apart now, he’d feel worse—and he needed to finish it with Newman while he was here, with his brothers and father and Grant as backup. A deep steadying breath helped to ease the trembling. “I really am okay. I swear.” Swallowing again, she asked, “The others?”
As if he didn’t quite believe, his gaze searched hers. “Elliott is fine, but he got cut. It’s not bad,” he said when she looked up in alarm. “No one else got hurt.”
“Cut? How?”
“One of Newman’s buddies, a guy named Lee, came at Ronnie. She was trying to hold back the dogs and didn’t see him. Elliott tackled the guy.” Mitch shrugged. “If not for him...” His mouth pinched and he looked away.
Ronnie might have been killed. Glad that he hadn’t finished that gruesome thought, Charlotte nodded. “He said he had others with him.”
“Two guys, and they’re contained, I promise.” His jaw worked. “I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t see you or Newman.” He inhaled sharply. “Finally Mary told me you were in the shower and I just...knew. That he had you, that he’d try to hurt you.” His eyes went glassy and he swallowed hard. “I’ve never been so scared.”
Why he held himself back, she didn’t know, and whatever his reasons, she really didn’t care. Launching at him, almost knocking him over, Charlotte squeezed him tight. “I thought I heard something but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t know what to do and I was so afraid the others would get hurt, and he’d have gotten to you too and—”
“Shh...” He smoothed her hair, kissing her face, her bare shoulder. “I’m so sorry, babe. So damned sorry.”
With a smack to his shoulder, she tried to shove free, but Mitch held on, so she settled for snapping, “It was him, not you. I love you.”
Mitch held her back, blank with surprise. “You said you were falling—”
“I was, but you can only fall so far before you land. Now I know for sure.” A sob welled up, despite her best efforts to quell it. “You’re the one for me. The only one.”
Crushing her close again, he rocked her gently. She heard him saying, “It’s all right, Brute. She’s okay, buddy.”
Blindly, Charlotte reached out, felt Brute’s neck and stroked him.
After a few seconds, Mitch kissed her forehead. “I have to go, honey.”
No. She didn’t want him to. But...this was it for him. As Ronnie had said, he was no longer that little boy who’d so badly needed protection. Now he was a man who wanted to finish ugly business against the one who’d hurt him.
Drying her eyes on his shoulder, she nodded and sat back. Mitch let her. She drew a shuddering breath and said, “I need to get dressed before I go outside.”
“You,” he emphasized, “need to stay in here.”
Determined to be at his side, she got to her feet, tossed the towel and headed for the dresser. “I love you.” And to her mind, that said it all.
A few seconds ticked by before Mitch caught up to her. “Charlotte—”
“What?” She pulled out jeans.
His gaze went all over her. “I need you—”
Chin up, she said, “I need you too.”
He caught the jeans, making it impossible for her to step into them. “I love you, Charlotte.”
Finally. That admission gave her the boost of energy she needed.
Until he added, “That’s why I want to know you’re inside. Safe.”
She loved hearing it, but still... “I’m safe when I’m with you.” Just the thought of not seeing him, not being near him, left her shaking. She couldn’t be alone, not now, not after...” Her hands clenched the denim tight. “Please understand.”
So many emotions passed over his face, but in the end, he relented. “I do.” He put his forehead to hers. “Promise me you won’t interfere?”
Easy enough to do; she wanted no part of Newman or his henchmen. Aware of Mitch looking at her, all over her, maybe seeing bruises but, hopefully, mostly just seeing her, she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. After she stepped into her flip-flops, she nodded. “I’m ready.”
* * *
MITCH HAD IT under control, just barely. Watching Charlotte drop the towel and dress... She’d almost stopped his heart, not only because she was beautiful, but because Newman had marked her. He spotted bruises, a scratch or two, and her cheeks were still blotchy from crying.
He wanted to pound Newman into dust, to demolish every single trace of him—but Grant was out there, so he doubted he’d be allowed that much leeway.
Touching a particularly vivid red mark on her throat, he barely managed to swallow. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
She nodded. “Me too. But I’m okay now.”
Me too? What the hell did that even mean?
“I’m sorry Newman touched me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry he was ever in your life. We’re both sorry for things out of our control.” Her small, cool palm curved around his cheek. “Now though, it’s over. So let’s go put a period on his miserable existence and get on with our lives together.”
Amazing. There couldn’t be a more incredible, wonderful, beautiful person in the entire world—and by some miraculous twist of fate, she was his.
Like his freedom, he would never, ever take her for granted. “Let’s go.”
Brute followed them when they left the room. Mitch wanted to reassure him more, and he wanted to pamper Charlotte, to check her head to toes and make one hundred percent certain that she was truly okay—but business first. He couldn’t leave his brothers out there dealing with Newman without him.
Mary stood just inside the kitchen doorway. Buster and Howler prowled around nervously, both wanting outside. Both denied.
On a kitchen chair, Elliott sat with blood running from his shoulder down his arm. Oddly enough, both Ros and Grant tended him.
Elliott looked at Charlotte and worked up a smile. “Not as fast as I used to be. And if Grant dares to chuckle about that, I’ll flatten him.”
Grant grunted and, seeing that Ros had it under control, stepped back to give Mitch a look. “You have about five minutes before I’ll be out there. Then it’s legal all the way. You understand me, son?”
“Yeah, I do.” It was more than he’d expected. “Appreciate it.”
Elliott stopped him. “Hit the bastard once for me, will you?”
“Yes, sir.” Brute remained on his heels. “Sorry, bud. You need to stay in here, but I’ll be back.”
Already on top of it, Mary said, “I’ll hand out treats,” and the word alone got Buster and Howler diverted. Brute she had to call twice, but he did finally give up his vigilance and follow her from the kitchen to the living room.
On the way out, Mitch remarked to Charlotte, “You have the most astounding family.”
With a brief, strained smile, she replied, “Yes, we do.” When she spotted the three men, all contained just past the patio, she froze.
Mitch stepped in front of her, blocking her view.
Newman’s two cohorts were hog-tied together, sitting back-to-back on the ground. They were in better shape than Bernie, but not by a lot. “Got worked over, I see.”
Brodie flexed his knuckles. “That’s what happens when someone breaks into my mother’s house. When he startles my wife and upsets my dog.”
Standing with Ronnie, who held her knife in her hand, Jack said, “Instead of busting up your face, I should have let my wife gut you. Be glad I didn’t.”
“He likes to have all the fun,” Ronnie said, sounding unconcerned. “But if you move, you’re mine.”
Newman cracked a laugh. He wasn’t tied, but he was disarmed. From his elbow to his wrist, bloody tooth marks marred his skin. “You need all these people to protect you, boy?”
Mitch only smiled. Yes, he knew Newman, knew his moods and methods—and right now Newman
was scared. “You’re going to prison for a very long time.”
Newman snorted. “Yeah, how do you figure that?”
“Breaking and entering, assault, attempted murder.”
“Ha. Don’t be dramatic. No one tried—”
“Bernie got out of the basement.” When Newman’s eyes flared, Mitch grinned and walked closer. “You told him what you planned, didn’t you? The idea of him sitting busted up and broken in the basement, knowing what you’d do and what would happen to him next, gave you a few thrills, right? But now he’s free and ready to tell the rest of the world.”
Anger brought Newman forward a step. “You fucking sold the house,” he said in a low growl, his face red, his eyes filled with hatred. “Velma loved me, not you. It should have been mine.”
Mitch didn’t lean away from his rage—no, he leaned into it. “I didn’t want it, you idiot. I wanted nothing to do with you—”
“Or your mama?” He laughed. “Does your new family know you walked out on her?”
In every way possible, his mother had left him long before that day he’d decided he had enough. “They know.”
Slanting his gaze to Brodie and Jack, Newman said, “Little Mitch was a real smart-ass, always butting in where he shouldn’t.” Gloating, he looked back at Mitch, his gaze hard. “Velma couldn’t control him, but he found out that I hit a helluva lot harder than her. Ain’t that right, boy?”
Brodie started to surge forward but Mitch stopped him.
Aware of Charlotte behind him, feeling her simmering animosity over Newman’s taunts, Mitch kept his tone moderate. “Yeah, I did learn that. Know what, though?” His fist landed against Newman’s cheek so fast and hard that no one—including Newman—saw it coming.
As he’d told Charlotte, when he hit someone it was with the intent of taking their head off their shoulders. Newman’s feet literally came out from under him and he landed hard on his back. Dazed, he stared blindly into space while catching his breath.
“This Mitch,” he said, moving to stand over him, “hits back. And if I’m counting, I owe you quite a few more.”
Brodie was still enraged. “You cowardly fucker. You actually wanted to brag about brutalizing a boy?”
Laboriously, Newman rolled up on one elbow and spat blood to the side. He worked his jaw, winced. “He had it coming.”
Jack said, “I should let him kill you. Hell, I’d be happy to help him—not that he needs it.”
“No, I don’t,” Mitch told him. “But I appreciate the thought.” He grabbed Newman by the shirt and hauled him back to his unsteady feet.
Newman tried throwing a punch, but his aim was off, with no power behind it.
“This one is for Elliott.” Putting his fist in Newman’s gut, he stole his air.
As Newman wheezed, Mitch said, “The rest are for Charlotte.”
With crushing force, he hit Newman three more times. Since he held him by the shirt, Newman didn’t fall—which suited Mitch. Another to the gut, and Newman’s legs completely gave out. Blood covered his face, mostly from his smashed nose and a split in his lip.
It didn’t matter. Mitch drew back once more—
And a delicate hand rested on his back. “Mitch.”
That soft voice and gentle touch sank into him...and he let Newman drop. Oddly enough, he felt nothing but impatience—to hold Charlotte.
“You owe him more,” Jack said.
“A lot more,” Brodie agreed.
Ronnie asked, “Wanna use my knife?”
The humor took him by surprise, making him laugh. This family, his family, was completely loony, loyal to a fault, a little bloodthirsty and he loved them dearly.
Catching her by the waist, he pulled Charlotte around and to his side. “I think Charlotte’s gotten her fill.”
“I haven’t,” Brodie said. “Not after he boasted of hitting a kid.”
“Get behind me,” Jack argued, both of them stepping forward at almost the same time.
Grant cleared his throat.
Frustrated, Brodie nudged Newman with his foot. “Maybe now you understand that Mitch isn’t a boy anymore, and he’s no longer alone. Mess with him and you’re messing with the whole family.”
“And,” Jack added, “we will destroy you.”
Grant threw up his hands. “Mind if I arrest him now?”
Hearing that, Newman groaned, barely coherent.
Sirens drew near, and that got all the dogs inside howling.
With Brodie, Jack, Ronnie and Grant standing over the three men, Mitch took Charlotte’s hand and moved her back to the patio.
Near her ear, he asked, “You’re okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for hitting him for me.”
“That was my pleasure.” His knuckles hurt, but his heart felt incredibly happy.
Newman would finally be out of his life. Charlotte would be in it, along with the family he’d never thought to have. A man couldn’t ask for more than that—especially since it was everything he’d never dared to hope for.
* * *
TO GIVE HERSELF something to do, Ros made cookies. Everyone had returned to her house after going to the hospital with Elliott. Luckily, a couple layers of stitches had mended the deep cut from the top of his shoulder to about seven inches down his back. There’d been no serious muscle damage but he would need time to heal.
Again, he could have been killed.
The boys hadn’t known about the wreck yet, but the doctor mentioned it while updating them, saying it was imperative that Elliott take it easy for a while and give his body a chance to recover.
Stunned, the three of them—Brodie, Jack and Mitch—had soaked in the fact that they might have lost Elliott, and he hadn’t even told them.
Because, overall, he didn’t think they’d care.
That was his fault and they all knew it. But somehow, in the moment, it hadn’t seemed to matter.
Pressing a hand to her heart, Ros waffled between fury and remorse. Fury at Elliott for creating the situation, and remorse that she couldn’t somehow fix it.
“Hey, baby. You okay?”
Oh, that voice. He knew it did crazy things to her, damn him, and that’s why he used it. Without looking at him, Ros snapped, “Why aren’t you on the couch recuperating as the doctor ordered?
“Mitch is ready to go. He wants to drive me, even though I told him I’m perfectly capable—”
A volatile mix of emotions spun her around to face him. “You,” she said in her most take-charge voice, “aren’t going anywhere.”
Blank surprise had him blinking. “I’m not?”
Though he might be nearing sixty, Elliott still looked devastatingly handsome and rugged with beard shadow darkening his jaw. “You heard the doctor. You’ll need someone to change out the bandages each day, to apply more antibiotic ointment, to help you with your shoes and—”
Skeptically, he asked, “You?”
She swatted his shoulder, then gasped, appalled at herself. Snatching back her hand, she groaned, “Oh my God. Did I hurt you?”
His smile went crooked, his gaze knowing. “No, you didn’t.” Taking her hand, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You’re jumpy from lack of sleep. Why don’t you go get some rest? I can help the boys at the shop today.”
Of all the... It seemed wise to turn her back on him before replying. “I’m in better shape than you are.” Grabbing up an oven mitt, she took out the cookies. “You’ll stay here, Elliott, and that’s that. I’m close enough to work that I can fill in for Charlotte for a day or two, while also checking on you.”
The resounding silence had her looking back, in case he’d left the kitchen.
Head down, he muttered something low.
“What?”
When he looked at her, it was with regret. “You’ve taken ca
re of me long enough, Ros. I refuse to do that to you, again.”
The cookie tray hit the trivet with a clatter. She threw down the oven mitt like a gauntlet. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
“What?” His brows shot up. “No. See I was—”
“Yes, you are. That’s what this is about, right? Admit it.”
Charlotte and Mitch entered the kitchen, hugged up to one another. It did her heart good to see them so close. Behind them, Jack and Ronnie stepped in, then Brodie and Mary.
They all stared at Elliott.
Clearly she’d been louder than she thought.
Mitch said, “I thought you were coming home with me.”
“I am,” Elliott said.
“No,” she countered, digging in. “He’s not.”
Concerned, but not really rebutting her, Brodie asked, “You’re kicking him out?”
“You know,” Jack said, more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him, “he got in the way of that knife to protect Ronnie. For once, I thought it’d be okay if we lent him a hand for a little while.”
“I’m not kicking him out.” Did they all consider her so heartless? “He’s staying here, and that’s final.”
“Here?” Mitch glanced around her kitchen. “You mean...with you?”
Oh, how she wished he hadn’t spelled it out like that. “Yes, with me.” So there’d be no arguments, Ros used her best mother’s voice and crossed her arms. “You have enough to do now that Newman is out of the picture.”
With a slow smile, Mitch said, “Okay.”
For the longest time, everyone else just stared at her, until Elliott cracked a grin. “You heard your mother, boys. I’m staying here.”
Well, damn. Now Elliott looked like she’d propositioned him! Pointing at him, she emphasized, “Temporarily.” His grin widened. “Until you’re healed.” He winked.
Oh, for the love of... “Who wants a cookie?”
* * *
AFTER FINISHING A big job for a new house construction, putting in all the landscaping and laying sod, he’d taken the time to stop by a little jewelry store. Now, with too much sun on his face and shoulders, sweat gluing his shirt to his back, and a smile of anticipation, Mitch headed home.
